


The taste of you

by Exces_KaboomBOOM



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, Bottom Hank, Connor's got free will and he's freely taking that old man's ass, Dirty Talk, First Time, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Semi-Public Sex, Top Connor, anal licking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 10:17:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15217001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exces_KaboomBOOM/pseuds/Exces_KaboomBOOM
Summary: It's the little things that make them realize they've fallen in love; Hank's messy hair tied in a sloppy bun, Connor's way of finding worth where no others can, or simply the precious moments they share with only one another.It comes naturally to them... They are still surprised to find themselves fucking in the precinct's bathroom, though.(re-worked and re-uploaded story)





	The taste of you

**_A match made in… Detroit?_ **

 

Hank has pushed up his hair into a messy bun today. Some stray hair is still falling over his eyes, but the whole of his face is out for everyone to see. Connor tries his best not to stare, but he is really charmed by this new hairstyle. His partner looks less severe, and somehow younger.

 

The smell of liquor has finally left his breath and clothes; Hank has been seriously battling with his alcoholism since the Revolution. It had been a wake-up call for him. _I’ve finally remembered who I was_ , he had confessed to Connor one night, while they were watching the lighted bridge of the city under the quiet falling of snow. _Thanks to you, I’ve finally remembered what I was capable of. I must stay true to Cole’s memory._

 

Connor has since been closely watching his change of character; his clothes are still awfully mismatched but are cleaner, his beard is well-kept, his health is getting better and his mood has been more nuanced. Hank’s smiles are becoming more honest and lasting. Connor has made it his personal mission to catalogue each one of them in a mind file labeled: _Reasons to wake up in the morning._

 

Not that he needs sleep or anything. He mostly finds the expression charming. Waking up for somebody… For Hank, at his side…

 

Goddammit, his processors are going off the charts again.

 

“You okay there, buddy?” Hank is acquiring, looking at him over his computer desk, mildly annoyed and a little bit worried.

 

Connor is so fucked. He completely loves that grumpy, hothead, genius of a Lieutenant with all his metaphoric heart. How could he bring that up casually?

 

“I’m fine, Lieutenant,” he replies instead. He doesn’t know what he is stepping into. The wikipedia’s page on _love_ isn’t helping either, except nourishing his new emotional electric thoughts. “I was… thinking.”

 

Hank ticks at his hesitation. Then runs a tired hand through his hair, pushing it behind his ear. Connor’s blue blood is rushing everywhere. Is he about to explode? It would be better than feeling that… _Embarrassed._

 

Connor decides he hates feeling feelings now. Fuck feelings.

 

But Hank is still a little shit, so he asks:

 

“Whatcha thinking about, kid?”

 

“I... _Feelings."_

 

“That’s one hell of a heavy subject, and one shitty formed sentence.”

 

“Please, stop antagonizing me, some things are still very new to me.”

 

Connor lowers his eyes, remembering it to be a posture of humility, and he doesn’t see but hear Hank saying in a comforting voice:

 

“It’s alright, Con. I’ve had them since birth, and let me tell you, I still can’t function them properly. Don’t fry yourself over it.”

 

Connor chuckles at his poor worded pun, and fondly replies:

 

“Thank you… Hank.”

 

He pours all of his emotions in the name. Hank must have felt the slight shift in the meaning, too, because he is violently blushing and looking at everything but Connor. He mumbles a way too loud:

 

“No problem!”

 

Then, they go back to working in silence.

 

Two minutes later, Connor is back in his contemplation of Hank’s face and his intriguingly styled gray hair. Should he buy him flowers?

 

***

You would hope a city reflecting on power plays and its enslavement of living beings would be less filled with murders; well, the number of crimes has dropped, but unfortunately not the number of aggressions by humans on androids.

 

Multiple men, all from the same hate group, have crossed the city’s borders in the past couple of weeks to attack the most androids they could before being apprehended or killed.

 

Detroit desperately needs better frontiers’ surveillance for its own safety, but with the whole country looking at them, they can’t make bold choices that could be misinterpreted as a diplomatic faux-pas.

 

So… The Police Department is still working its ass off. Not about deviants cases, but about monstrous men killing androids. The precinct has lost a good half of its staff officers in the Revolution, but many androids have since offered to work with them in the wake of the new System. Connor inspired most of them to sign in, and many simply wanted a chance to impress him.

 

It’s normal, all things considered; the guy’s a hero.

 

But Hank? He is jealous. A nasty, smelly, jealous old man. Sumo is shaming him each time he confesses his feelings to him. But he is his only friend, for fuck’s sake, which is sad but mostly telling of his dire desire to keep Connor close to his heart.

 

He loves the man. The android. Whatever. He would burn another city down if he asked him to, is what Hank is thinking. Which isn’t very romantic, but he is a terrible man with not a single clue about what could be the dating life of a human and an android.

 

So… Yeah. He mostly complains to his dog, and sometimes to his sober companion, an android named Behzad. But both seem to be fed up about his bottled up feelings. Which means he is annoyed about it too, now.

 

The crime scene they enter today is pretty straightforward; a human man is lying in a pool of his own blood, a bullet hole between his eyes. The assaulted android was able to defend themselves, but not before their aggressor had a good hit at their legs.

 

“For once I’m glad androids can change parts,” Hank admits in a small breath into Connor’s ear, “they don’t deserve to lose anything over such a pig.”

 

Connor looks at him with stars in his eyes. He is smiling, despite the cruellness circling them. Is that a romantic moment? Are they really having their break-through near a deceased serial killer?

 

Hank’s life fucked. But it”s okay, because Connor is replying so very softly:

 

“You’re a brave man, Hank. You have one of the kindest heart I ever heard beating.”

 

 _“Don’t_ — don’t say such things here!”

 

Connor simply smiles harder. Hank hides his mortified face in the insides of his coat, almost running into one of his colleague on his way out. Fuck Connor, but also thank God for the blessing that he is, ya know?

 

***

Sumo is sleeping on Connor’s lap, his heavy head humming loudly against his chest processor. It feels and sounds like home. They are both on the sofa watching TV, waiting for Hank to get ready for work in the bathroom.

 

They have been called in early for a new murder case involving a terrorist group planning on bombing multiple androids refugees’ centers. Connor has came into the home with donuts and a hot coffee as a peace offering to lighten up his partner’s moody spirit at being woken up so early — the sun is still sleeping at the horizon.

 

Sumo has already ate most of the food, but he is a good boy so neither of the two men were mad. Who could blame anything on such a sweet living creature? Sumo is an angel. Connor wants to stay near him — and his owner — for as long as he is allowed to.

 

And the worst thing is — he knows he would be welcomed in with open arms.

 

“Aren't you boys lovely all snuggled like that,” Hank’s voice rises behind Connor’s head. He turns to look at him slowly, trying not to wake up his furry buddy.

 

“You think I'm lovely?”

 

Hank snorts, cheeks burning pink, and retorts:

 

“Don't flatter yourself, boy, my standards are real low.”

 

Yet he smiles genuinely at Connor, who can’t do anything but mirror it, absolutely charmed.

 

“Lieutenant, please allow me to court you.”

 

Hank is redder by the second, and still manages to smirkly replies:

 

“Haven't you been doing that since the first time we met? We had a real connection when I threatened to shoot you.”

 

“I think I fell for you when I learned you had a dog.”

 

The jokes are barely hiding the raw truth of their affection. But they are not completely ready for confessions yet, they still need some time.

 

They are smiling to each other anyway.

 

***

Maybe Hank could justify his current state by blaming his clumsiness. Unfortunately, he is sober as a virgin Bloody Mary and really enjoying himself right now.

 

Connor is full-body pressed against him, their cocks lined up in mutual masturbation. The two men are lying on the hard floor, cold tides under the palms of their hands, yet their body heat combined could burn up a night sky.

 

They managed to lock themselves in a public bathroom and only got fifteen minutes to themselves before meeting with their superior about their last case.

 

Today began like any other. Connor noticed Hank’s hair bun yet again, mindlessly picturing his fingers running through it, while Hank caught a glimpse of blued skin between two open buttons of his shirt.

 

They shared a look. The heat was unspoken, but deafening and unmistakable.

 

So, yeah. They decided to make out — and make love — in the precinct’s public bathroom. Most of their visitors are androids, anyway, meaning nobody is gonna catch them in the act. It is basically Hank’s private room, now.

 

Connor is riding him with equal parts strength and sensuality. Hank is picking kisses at his mouth like berries off a warm bush, never satisfied, greedy for anything his partner wants to share with him.

 

Connor’s cock is small, mostly there to mimic a basic cis man body; its blued tip is a charming detail, absolutely stunning drowned in synthetic precum.

 

Hank is moaning as quietly as possible, but if his whimperings are not what get them caught, it’s gonna be the sound of their joined cocks sliding together in too many fluids. They are burning hot, flesh over plastic melting divinely well into one another. Two beings built on miracles, united in one hell of a fucking.

 

Falling on his elbows, Hank is hungrily watching Connor, absorbing in his debauched expression and his teasing smiles. Connor himself is greatly enjoying the show; even if he is more silent, he is having the time of his life.

 

Yet, he has always been working to achieve the most. He needs Hank more intimately; he needs him everywhere, cum all over his sensory tips, smelling only of him. If Connor is considering becoming a property, he is willingly giving himself to his lover.

 

“Hank — would you agree on two things for me?”

 

Connor is waiting for his answer, hands resting on their dicks, barely touching them now. Hank is not having any of that, and rapidly whispers:

“Anything, Con, but _damn you_ — it’s really the worst moment to ask me anything!”

 

“I assure you… It’s not.” Connor is covering Hank’s body with his, raising their temperature and adding on the thickness of their desire. “One — would you agree to be late on our report meeting?”

 

“The hell with the meeting! _What else?”_

 

“Two…” His lips are blue from love bites, wet and abused. Hank is hypnotized by the details of the skin pattern, its refined coloring and the pliability of its fabric. What not to adore about him?

 

“Two —” Connor tries again, more assured, “will you let me fuck you?”

 

Hank is leaving his body for a bold second. That damn robot already gave him multiple almost-heart-attacks, but this time could be the deadly one.

 

He rushes to lay his hands over Connor’s closed eyes, savouring the texture of his lashes, way softer than any luxurious silk or velvet — and far more precious, as well.

 

“Yes — Connor, of course. Please, yes.” Hank is ready for quite anyway, at the moment. “But I didn’t have sex — in years, to be honest and — I don’t promise much —”

 

“This is already everything to me.” Connor is looking straight into his eyes, honest and eager. Hank can only think on repeat: _please fuck me, please fuck me, oh boy, please fuck me for fuck’s sake —_

 

“My penis is self-lubricated and quite small in erect mode but I want — I need — can I lick you as well?”

 

The room is impossibly hot, liquid lava poured over bruised leaves holding no comparaison to it.

 

Hank nods because he cannot trust his voice nor his words. He is experiencing his own version of a mental shutdown: Connor is his personal virus corrupting his every thought, changing his view on things and fucking him up inside out — presently on every level.

 

Of course Connor would be a very enthusiastic oral partner: the man cannot help himself from tasting every tiny bit of mystery crossing his line of sight. It is way more interesting to be the subject of that mouth’s interest, though.

 

Connor is accepting his partner’s consent as the most precious gift — which it is, in his sense. He ceremoniously goes down on Hank, taking his cock in his mouth, making surprised noises at his texture, his composents, his length and the unique taste of his cum. If he didn’t know himself by now, he would swear he were a sex android disguised as a police agent. He is sliding into full bliss with no trace of any remorse.

 

He decides to carefully begin his journey to Hank’s ass, licking his balls, humming into his rich pubis hair. Nothing can master this part of a human body; its warmth, its dangerous undertones, its infinite controversy… Connor is losing himself in a new way. He is loving it way too much — thank God he is alone in his own spirit again.

 

Fucking Hank is a serious business, in his eyes; since his self-discovered free-will, he looked at each thing influencing his experiences and everyday life. He thought about Hank, about what their friendship could become or not become; he thought about seeking sex advice from other more experienced sources. But in the end… Connor has always counted on himself to choose what should be his next moves.

 

And in that exact moment, he could not wish for more. If Hank had declined his proposition, they would have worked it out as well.

 

It’s simply that… Having Hank under him is both an affirmation of his right to decide for himself, and a definite gesture of his absolute devotion to a man who is never cared for. Connor wants to enter Hank — on every level his freshly freed mind can attain.

 

He starts licking at his partner’s hole, mentally mapping with his tongue every new information coming to him; the perfume of his sweat, the ghost smell of soap and dried cum, the harsh hair between his fat tights, the generous moans coming out of his mouth.

 

Lost in his curiousness and passion for collecting every tiny bits of data on Lieutenant Anderson’s body, Connor is right about to forget his request in the first place.

 

“Connor, it’s enough — if you don’t fuck me now, I swear on my life you’ll never take another taste of that ass, boy.” Hank’s crude words work wonder on Connor’s desire to wreck this man in the most loving way.

 

“I’m sorry, of course I will fuck you. Tell me if anything I do is hurting you.”

 

“You won’t break me,” Hank chuckles. His tired eyes tell another story, yet nothing could make him change his mind in that instant.

 

“I’m begging you,” Connor finds himself pleading against his soft, chubby belly, “Please prevent me from hurting you without realizing it.”

 

“And I’m begging you to fuck me already.”

 

The desperation in Hank’s voice is like sweet nonsensical music to Connor’s ears. No artificial sound could level with such delightfulness; he lines up his shiny, blued cock to his lover’s ass, noticing his own bare white components appearing at the end of his fingers, and enters him with nothing but great care.

 

Connor fears he is about to reboot from the overload of sensations running his processor, his sensors, his everything. He may be fucking Hank, but Hank is fucking him up even more beautifully.

 

Hank, on the other hand, is enjoying himself so much he doesn’t dare articulate a word or a thought. He is right where he was supposed to be, on a cosmic point of view. Connor’s dick is filling him up gently, pressing into him with no harm; it feels just about right. When he leans over to kiss him, Hank licks his cheeks, his neck, his lips, trying to push his own licking abilities to its maximum. He feels… Secured, and loved. Hold and satisfied, about to climax from emotions and great, sweet love making.

 

Goddamnit, he is right about to cry in a bathroom in the middle of dirty sex. This is so good for him, how is he supposed to deserve such a sweet partner when he is himself simply… _himself?_

 

Connor is pushing into him harder now, as if he wanted to distract him from his dark thoughts. Their hips are connecting at each thrust, Connor’s hand is around Hank’s dick working magic, and nothing really matters but them.

 

Connor whispers against Hank’s lips;

 

“Will you let me cum into you?”

 

Hanks kisses him and nods, moaning in his mouth while hitting the hardest climax his tiring body can allow.

 

The floor tides under his skin are still cold, but his post-orgasm brain could not care less. He has no more energy to give or master.

 

Connor has stopped thrusting into him, about to jerk himself off Hank’s belly, but he stops him right before:

 

“You can cum into my mouth, if you’d prefer… Kinda want to taste you too, boy.”

 

He doesn’t need to be told twice; Connor puts his cock at the rim of his lips, wetting them with his blued precum. Yet, he still seems hesitant on what to do next, so Hank takes him in his mouth in one motion.

 

Connor is riding his face for almost a minute, finally letting his own voice grow loud and needy, and Hank is guiding him with strong hands linked to his soft and heavy tights.

 

He cums on Hank’s tongue with a soundless sigh, shocked out of his mind at the processed sensations. Hank tastes mostly a simili of water lube, with a hint of berry flavoured condom. His lover is one of the cleanest piece of ass — and dick — in the whole building, even after one of the hottest fuck this city has ever known.

 

Connor finally slides on the floor next to Hank, half covering him with his body to share his own heat. They silently stare at the ceiling, not able to fully grasp what really happen and how they should act about it now.

 

“I don’t think we should attempt our debriefing meeting,” Connor shyly admits, still not looking at his partner.

 

Hank laughs heartily at his comment, loving that sarcastic but workaholic android of his. “Yeah… We should head home. Have some rest. Take Sumo on a walk. Get married.”

 

“Don’t humor me, Lieutenant.”

 

They finally lock eyes, and timidly smile to each other.

 

“But I’d love to have dinner with Sumo and you,” Connor says.

 

“You’d stay the night, too?”

 

Connor kisses him like his life is depending on that gesture alone.

 

“If you will have me… I will stay for far more.”

**Author's Note:**

> Re-uploaded after some changes were needed + I had not used the correct rating for the story, at first. 
> 
> I just wanted Hank to wear a bun okay… I’m a weak man. Also I’m discovering my android freaky kink, I guess. God, I’m sorry.


End file.
